As the Switch Flicks On
by Moonstruck Muse
Summary: One-shot/ in universe/ story format. Episode: Operation: Annihilation! Bones finds himself caring for the stubborn Spock as he adjusts to his loss of eyesight. But one final request to see brings long-awaited results. Enjoy!


"Bones... Take care of him."

The first role of a doctor was always to protect his patients— something McCoy always felt he did well, as well as a doctor could, at least, on such a journey. He helped those who were sick, he drove parasites out of people's bodies, he prevented any disease from spreading, he kept people sane after years spent aboard a ship, going into the unknown every day. He made sure every last man and woman aboard the Enterprise was as safe and sound as best he was able.

But sometimes, it wasn't enough. Those were the hardest times; when McCoy questioned himself as a doctor, as a lieutenant commander, and as a human being.

Bones was fairly confident in himself, and he was used to tragedies, both as a doctor and a shipmate. Yet, he also knew that he had never made a blunder quite like this one. The doctor was at an utter loss, even as he gently guided Spock by the arm onto a bed in the sickbay.

"I assure you, doctor, that I am in excellent health," Spock stated.

"I need to run some tests," Leonard firmly told the Vulcan, getting out his medical scanner. "The parasite is gone, but we don't know if there could be any other negative effects." He sighed; the Vulcan was otherwise in perfect health.

He carefully set the scanner down by his computer and knelt, double checking the read-outs. Bones had to clench his hands to cease their angry shaking. Even with his high intelligence, the Vulcan would be incapacitated for weeks, months even, until he adjusted to functioning without his eyes.

It was 2:15 when McCoy's alarm sounded, telling him to check on Spock. When he found the Vulcan's assigned bed empty, Leonard knew he shouldn't have been surprised. So he merely sighed and wondered where to go look for the Vulcan first.

He tried the man's quarters, but the he wasn't there. McCoy paused; what other areas would the Vulcan feel the need to familiarize himself with? He went immediately to the bridge, much to the surprise of the two officers monitoring the ship.

"Something wrong, doctor?" One turned and asked.

"No, nothing." Bones replied. He hesitated to tell the men, but thought again; Spock had all ready proven once that he had legitimate reasons for leaving sickbay. "I'm just stretching my legs."

"How is Mister Spock?" The other asked.

"Adjusting." Bones replied stiffly, leaving the bridge with a nod of his head. He paused on the elevator; where to next? Well, the next logical place was the galley.

Indeed, Spock was there, slowly walking around. His arms weren't quite outstretched, more at his sides, running his hands along the tables and chairs.

"Hello," Spock said simply once the door had closed.

"Spock, you should be in bed," McCoy said.

The Vulcan seemed almost relieved when he heard Leonard's voice. "No, Doctor, I am quite well. I must familiarize myself with common areas of the ship."

"I am your doctor, Spock," McCoy began.

"And you should know how vital it is for me to be able to function as best I am able." The Vulcan interjected, beginning to walk around the room again. He was careful, but still had trouble, and every time he fumbled McCoy heard his words echoing in his head.

"Mister Spock's the best first officer in the fleet." That was what he told Kirk, and he had to admit to what he had done to Spock when the Vulcan stumbled into a table.

Then a lose chair. "The creature within me is gone. I am free of it and the pain."

The wall came just a bit too soon. "And I'm also quite blind."

"An equitable trade, Doctor." He was fumbling along the wall, trying to find the food replicator. He found it. "Thank you."

He summoned a glass of water, and slowly turned, other hand outstretched, and found the nearest table. Leonard had hope as he found it easily and pulled a chair back.

"I threw the total spectrum of light at the creature. It wasn't necessary. I didn't stop to think that only one kind of light might've killed it."

"Are you telling me that Spock need not have been blinded?" Spock carefully set the glass down on the table, and began to sit.

He missed and toppled to the floor. "I didn't need to throw the blinding white light at all, Jim. Spock, I—"

"Damn it, Spock!" McCoy shouted. The Vulcan started and turned towards him as the doctor rushed over. He pulled one of the man's arms around his shoulders and stood up, then helped the Vulcan into a chair.

"Doctor, need I say it again?" The Vulcan looked directly at him. McCoy felt distinctly ill.

"I know, Spock. You need to—"

"As I said before, doctor, that it was my selection as well. It is done." The Vulcan interrupted him.

McCoy was silent for a while. "I believe I will need help returning to my quarters." Spock told him.

"You need to return to sickbay," Bones said firmly.

"There is nothing to be gained by that," Spock told him and stood up. "Now I am returning to my quarters."

Whether you help me or not. He didn't even have to say it; McCoy sighed and grabbed the Vulcan's elbow, gently guiding him through the tables and into the hallway.

Was it really not his fault? Or was it more that Bones had to learn to live with the guilt?

"Spock…" He began.

"Please refrain from speaking, doctor," Spock replied harshly. "I am counting my steps." McCoy ignored the feeling that he had been mentally slapped in the face and continued to escort the other man slowly, steadily.

"Thank you," Spock told him once they had reached his room and the two men had gone inside. McCoy helped him sit on his bed. "That will be all, doctor."

"You don't actually think I can leave you like this, do you?" McCoy demanded.

Perhaps regrettably, Spock understood both meanings of the phrase. "Is there really anything more you can do?"

Leonard exhaled a deep sigh. "There may be something left in the records." The Vulcan was shaking his head at him.

"You know as well as I do that there will not be, doctor," Spock replied simply.

"And you know as well as I do that I cannot leave you like this!" Bones snapped back. He grabbed the Vulcan by the shoulders, ready to shake some sense into the man. "I am not leaving you like this, Spock! I refuse!" Instead he found himself shaking as he turned on his heel and headed to sickbay.

It was many, many hours later when McCoy forced himself to take another break. A full day's worth of meal trays, kindly brought over by Nurse Chapel, were sitting discarded on his desk. He rubbed his face angrily, forcing himself to stay awake, to relax. He had found nothing. Vulcans had a certain natural defense against sunlight, but it would do no good with the man all ready blinded.

The intercom sounded; it was from the bridge. With mixed emotions he responded, "McCoy here."

Kirk's voice came over the intercom, in a strange sort of tone, "Tell Spock it worked."

McCoy nodded to himself. "Yes, Captain. He'll be happy to hear that." He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Bones, it wasn't your fault." The Captain's voice was pleading. But all Leonard could do was sit, stoically. "Bones." McCoy swallowed hard and cut the line, standing up and exiting the sickbay.

He passed the galley, heard the cheers and shouts from the off-duty crew members inside. Bones knew Spock wouldn't be among them, so he continued on to the Vulcan's quarters. He found him lying quite still on his bed, with his hands folded neatly on his chest.

"Doctor," the Vulcan greeted him. Well, that was something at least; the man was adapting quickly.

"It was a success," Bones told him, moving over to the bed. He stood, staring out the window. "The remaining citizens of Deneva are free."

"Congratulations, doctor."

McCoy rounded on the Vulcan. "Con… congratulations? Are you insane, Spock?"

"Actually, I am quite sane, and adjusting well." Spock replied, sitting up. "I would however ask that you lower your voice." McCoy turned, and began pacing frantically.

"I couldn't find anything," he admitted.

"I figured as much… But, I do have a request."

"What is it?" Leonard asked, still somewhat distracted by his anger.

"I would like to see, one last time."

"I told you! I can't…" McCoy collapsed in the chair by the Vulcan's desk. "I can't do that…" He whispered softly.

"I do not mean by medicinal means." McCoy looked up at the man. He was now standing, with his arms folded neatly behind him, waiting expectantly for a reply.

Slowly, the doctor nodded, then realized, dully, that Spock was unable to see such a gesture. "All right." The Vulcan merely extended his hand, and McCoy got up and walked over, laying his on the other man's. Spock then slowly traced his hand up McCoy's arm, along his shoulder and neck, and finally to his face. His touch left a slight tingling sensation in the human, who had to repress a shiver.

McCoy closed his eyes and told himself to relax. But it was over all too quickly as Spock drew away.

"That's… all?" McCoy asked, opening his eyes. He saw a brief expression of frustration on the other man.

"No, you are too tense," Spock said very softly.

"I… I'm sorry, Spock." He finally said it.

"There is one final thing we can try."

McCoy looked directly at the Vulcan, into the man's unseeing eyes. It was a strange feeling; it being the first time he had done so. Yet… he felt somehow, the Vulcan was able to meet his gaze. Not physically, but…

"I'll do whatever you say to help." He told the Vulcan.

McCoy, as per instructions, helped them both to sit on the floor. He then turned and sat, cross-legged, with his back to the other man. Spock laid his hands on his back gently. He then pushed, slightly. McCoy could feel the Vulcan's tense body through his hands.

Spock spoke, keeping his voice level. "Your shirt is too slippery to do it right." He expected some sort of argument over this, but McCoy wordlessly slid his shirt off in one fluid movement. The Vulcan once more laid his hands on the doctor's back, noting how both of them tensed at the direct physical contact, and briefly took a moment to steady his hands. He placed them on Leonard's low back, between the appropriate vertebra, and pushed gently. Still the doctor refused to relax, so he pushed a little harder, slowly moving his hands to various places on his back; always his hands were parallel with one another.

It took several more points to hit but Leonard eventually grew less tense. Spock considered this surprisingly quick progress and continued to press on other focal points on his back, applying more pressure in certain areas. As the session went on for longer, the man grew less and less tense. His breathing slowed, and the muscles in his back and shoulders unknotted.

It was only another minute before the other affect of this method appeared to take effect, as McCoy let out what was quite possibly a small moan, one that was muffled quickly, and Spock snatched his hands off of the doctor's back.

"It is your turn now, doctor," Spock said simply, turning and removing his own shirt in a robotic fashion. He placed his hands on either side of his own back. "This level, but on either side of the vertebra." He told the doctor, who obliged by applying nearly the exact same amount of pressure Spock himself had used.

Spock felt himself relax almost immediately, and found the doctor had moved to the next point just as Spock was about to indicate where it was. By the time the doctor had found the third point, he had heaved a soft sigh and was simply enjoying the sensation. McCoy proved to have excellent memory.

It was, of course, difficult to distance oneself when performing this rite, and was, quite simply, less effective when done as such, and so Spock didn't resist, or at least, as much as he allowed himself not to. The way Leonard did it was… different, but perhaps that was why Spock found it so comfortable.

Instead of picking his hand up firmly from point to point, he traced his fingers to them. In some spots, but somehow never the wrong ones, he would knead his fingers into it slightly, massaging tight muscles and tension. In others he barely tapped them, but they still seemed to register.

Spock had his mouth shut for fear of emitting other sounds. He, of course, had more control than the doctor had before, but it was only now that the Vulcan noticed the scent of the man around him, the coarseness of his hands… The Vulcan had half a mind to stand up, to stop this, but by now both sides, the Vulcan and the human, were telling him to stay exactly as he was.

So he was totally relaxed, even as he felt McCoy learn in more to apply more pressure. Even when he felt the man's breath on his neck and back, and perhaps, just the slight trace of his lips there too. He felt he could have sat like that forever, had the doctor merely stilled his now insistent hands.

He sighed a mixed sigh before speaking. "I think that is adequate." Bones gently removed his hands.

"All right, now what?" The doctor replied. Spock turned to face him. This time it was not so strange, so foreign, to trace his hand along the man's arm. He gently laid his hand against McCoy's cheek.

"You know that this will have to be… a very different—" Spock began uncertainly, giving the doctor one last chance to refuse.

"I know, Spock," McCoy replied; of course he didn't back away. So the two men fell silent. Spock felt each of them grow a little tense, but that was to be expected. He merely continued to focus; not on words, but on something even more basic than that. Thoughts and emotions slowly trickled in. Confusion, anger, shame, and guilt were prominent in the doctor. But most recently, a sort of acceptance, a soft kind of happiness, perhaps. Deeper feelings came then… Ones that had been nestled with the doctor for a long time. He cared for every man and woman aboard the ship, but knew his honor and duty was to remain distant. Yet a bond had formed between McCoy, Kirk, and Spock. As the three grew in friendship, Spock and McCoy's bond took a distinctly different route.

Next came the memories. As Spock had noticed only moments before, McCoy had remarkably excellent memory. Important events were locked into his mind, with surprisingly little alterations over time for a human. His memories of working with patients, with Nurse Chapel, of eating in the galley, of all the strange planets they went to, of all the times the two men had matched wits, each had a distinct flavor.

The doctor was breathing heavier now, and some sweat was forming against Spock's hand. "Almost there, doctor," Spock whispered. McCoy nodded into his hand.

It was black. Or perhaps not black, and certainly not empty, but… simple. Spock found the last part only took a fraction of the time the other ones had.

It was the oddest sensation to open his eyes and see himself, so he immediately cast his gaze aside.

"Well, this is odd," McCoy spoke.

"Indeed." Spock admitted. He was both in his own body and, to a lesser degree, in the human's. McCoy stood up, at Spock's mental urging, and peered around the room. Slowly, awkwardly, the doctor walked over to a small beside table. He opened the drawers and carefully removed a photo.

"I would of never thought you the kind to be so sentimental, Spock," McCoy said as they looked at the photograph. It was of his parents; looking as noble as ever. But thanks to the shared consciousness, McCoy now had a better understanding. There was a kindness there too, more apparent in his mother, but in his father as well. Emotions threatened to overwhelm the two, for a brief moment.

"Thank you, doctor," Spock said simply.

Leonard pondered over how to reply, but found simplicity to be best. "You're welcome." The two men took a last look around the room together. Their gaze lingered on a mirror hanging above the dresser. It was only a second, before McCoy found himself standing there alone, and Spock found himself back in the darkness.

Neither men moved; neither was sure what was appropriate. Somehow, at separation a barrier had been broken, and a deeper understanding of what the mind meld had revealed came to both of them. Still neither moved for a long moment, each feeling uncertain.

Uncertainty can only last for so long. Leonard turned and knelt next to Spock, looking at the man's face. Now, he could read it better, better than anyone else on the ship, better than anyone in Spock's life. So he felt no hesitation as he finally leaned forward and pressed his lips against the Vulcan's.

The last link shattered, one that had been in place so long both men could hear it.

Spock reveled in the fact that McCoy threaded his arms about his neck and shoulders, even as he pulled the man closer. Spock released himself from the delicate balance of being half-Vulcan and half-human as both sides wanted the same thing. He slipping his tongue between McCoy's lips, running it along them before rushing to meet the human's tongue.

It still wasn't enough, even as the two men tried to get closer; had to stop for air, and then met again. There was no separation; no confusion, no "I". It was just the two men, trying to make up for lost time, even as McCoy bend over and pinned Spock to the floor.

But sometimes shock can change things. And so when Spock froze, and left the doctor, confused and out of breath, the change happened.

"What, what is it Spock?" McCoy asked worriedly. He sat up and glanced around, puzzled.

"I…" Spock smiled and grabbed McCoy's shoulders and kissed him deeply. "I can see. It was only temporary. I can see." The two men stared at each other, for once that evening, finding that to be enough.

It was hard enough for the Vulcan to control himself as the two men made their way to the bridge. The doctor's now ever present emotions didn't exactly make the task easier, not that the Vulcan objected. The shocked expression on members of the crew as he strode in was also something to enjoy.

Seeing their friend's expression was perhaps the best, though. "Spock. You can see."

The doctor was practically beaming. "The blindness was temporary, Jim. There's something about his optical nerves which aren't the same as a human's."

"An hereditary trait, Captain. The brightness of the Vulcan sun has caused the development of an inner eyelid, which acts as a shield against high-intensity light. Totally instinctive, doctor. We tend to ignore it, as you ignore your own appendix," he finished factually.

"Mr. Spock, regaining eye sight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I presume, felt nothing?" Kirk asked Spock curiously.

"Quite the contrary, Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Dr. McCoy bending over me." The Vulcan replied in his typical fashion.

"It is a pity brief blindness did not increase your appreciation for beauty, Mr. Spock." McCoy replied without missing a beat.

"If you gentlemen are finished, would you mind laying in a course for Starbase Ten, Mister Spock?" Kirk interjected.

Spock returned to his station. "My pleasure, Captain."

The doctor went over to stand by Jim. "Unusual eye arrangement. I might've known he'd turn up with something like that."

Kirk glanced at him. "What's that, Doctor?"

"Please don't tell Spock I said he was the best first officer in the fleet."

The Vulcan spun around in his chair, looking surprised. Knowing was one thing, hearing it was quite another. "Why, thank you, doctor." McCoy mentally groaned; that haughty expression was back.

Kirk smiled. "You were so worried about his Vulcan eyes, doctor, you forgot about his Vulcan ears."


End file.
